I
find myself among the recently unemployed, and I face a dilemma common to
those in this condition. On the one hand, I’d prefer not to find another job.
On the other, I don’t know anybody who still operates on the barter system,
so I need a source of income. How to resolve this conflict?

During a particularly productive period of
my unemployment, I was browsing best seller lists on the internet and discovered
that The Secret reached the top of the New York Times hard cover
advice list, and the BookSense hardcover nonfiction and fiction
lists.

I haven’t read The Secret or watched
the movie. I refuse to subject my brain to such a hazard. But I’ve pieced
together more than I want to know from the rants of those who’ve been brave
or foolish enough to experience it.

The basic premise of the work is that you
can bring about whatever you want simply by thinking about it — what the author
calls “the law of attraction.”

This strategy apparently works with any goal.
An acquaintance of mine, after watching the movie, now fervently believes
she can fly. I don’t mean she’s comfortable stepping onto a plane. Literally
— flapping-her-arms, jumping-off-a-cliff flying. I assume she hasn’t yet attempted
lift-off or I would’ve joined her in the hospital after I laughed myself into
an apoplexy from learning about it.

Exerting that kind of influence is enticing,
and consumers of self-help literature seem insatiable for some reason, so
the self-help market should be able to support another product.

The formula is pretty simple. Take a nuanced
psychological theory, like positive thinking, which suggests that optimism,
high self-esteem, and satisfaction with life predict healthy psychological,
physical, emotional, and relational functioning.

Reduce it to a simple catchphrase that’s only
tangentially related to the original theory. Make impossible claims about
the efficacy of your catchphrase to change people’s lives. Finally, disseminate
it in a shiny package and inflate the price.

An obscenely inflated price has the dual purpose
of making you filthy rich and building a loyal customer base motivated by
cognitive dissonance. The high price creates the illusion of great worth.
If you convince a customer to pay that price, and he discovers your product
isn’t worth what he paid, he is motivated to convince himself otherwise. The
alternative is that he risks damaging his self-image by acknowledging that
he is gullible enough to be deceived by dishonest marketing.

If I were to research a psychological principle
that I could put into practice, that would come dangerously close to doing
actual work. Instead, I’m going to simplify an existing self-help philosophy
on the pretext that I am evolving the ideas of previous great thinkers. Thus
I will maximize my ratio of loot to effort.

The job from which I was laid off was computerized
note taking — basically stenography, but with a laptop instead of a fancy
typewriter — for certain college courses. I was assigned to cover the “Image
Consulting Certificate” program. There were six courses, taking 90 hours in
total to complete, and costing the students $1,200 each.

I’ve condensed those lessons into six principles,
each one introduced by a quote from one of the classes. (These are actual
quotes I took from my notes. I couldn’t make this stuff up.)

I present to you: The Life is Awesome
Society’s "Six Principles to Make You Awesome at Life"
certificate.

Health: “Personal growth might make you feel ill.
That’s your body releasing toxins, so just bear with it.” The ability to
ignore your body’s danger signals is necessary to complete this certificate.
Beware of serial killers, however, because they are attracted to people
who do this. Still, it’s a small price to pay for being awesome.

Public speaking: “Begin your speech with a quote.
For example, Cleopatra once said, ‘To be or not to be.’ ” Better yet, begin
every speech with that exact quotation. You’ll impress the audience with
your literary prowess.

Fashion: “When in doubt, overdress and feel confident
doing it.” Don’t worry about whether you should wear a tie or a bowtie with
your suit. Instead, go with an emperor’s robe made from the finest Indian
silk and embroidered with gold thread, cover your head with a carved ivory
helmet, and carry a jewel-encrusted scepter. Traveling atop a war elephant
is optional.

Business: “Remember World War 3 — women who had trouble
feeding their families would still buy creams.” The implication is clear:
Start another world war to stimulate sales in any luxury goods you might
be selling.

Energy: “Thoughts can affect another person’s energy.
To protect yourself from negative thoughts, imagine that you are zipping
yourself up. But be careful when you unzip your jacket that you don’t also
unzip your energy.” This is of particular concern in colder climates. People
come inside from the cold and unzip without thinking. You don’t want to
be caught with your energy exposed for some stranger to fondle.

Awesomeness: “Visualize that you’re
awesome.” Because you are. Also visualize sending me $9.95 to receive a certificate
stating: “Cleopatra agrees: ‘I’m totally awesome.’ ” (Order forms are available
at www.lifesawesome.com.) I know it doesn’t seem like the price is very high,
but if you consider that each certificate costs me about $0.11 in ink and
paper to produce, I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s grossly inflated.

You can practice these six principles and
at least double your awesomeness quotient. But these principles are only the
first step in a long journey of self-improvement. Attaining the certificate
allows you to prove to the world how awesome you really are —you could include
the certificate on your resume, website, or embroider it onto your favorite
pillow. It also means you’ve attained the next level of awesomeness and can
continue your costly training.

Above all else, remember that the potential
for happiness and success is always within you. But you need to pay somebody
else fat sacks of cash to help get it out. Why not make that person me?

Philip Kolba is a recent
psychology and criminology graduate, and the editor of Squid & Ink
magazine.